


Water from a Stone

by onekisstotakewithme



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Episode: s05e21 Movie Tonight, Hurt/Comfort, Kidney Stones, M/M, Medical Examination, Medical Procedures, Whump, implied Hunnihawk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 19:03:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20430914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onekisstotakewithme/pseuds/onekisstotakewithme
Summary: For reasons unknown, his eyes snap open in the middle of the night.Tag to "Movie Tonight"





	Water from a Stone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flootzavut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flootzavut/gifts), [docmccoy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/docmccoy/gifts).

> For Floot, as always ♥  
And for Cal, I hope this is a good distraction if nothing else ♥♥

Hawkeye should be asleep, should be enjoying an extended stay in the land of Nod, exhausted as he is by a long, if successful, shift in surgery.

But for reasons unknown, his eyes snap open in the middle of the night. 

He lies there for a second, his eyes adjusting to the darkness, the last tendrils of sleep still wrapped around his brain, his heart pounding with sudden waking, when he hears a low moan from the direction of BJ’s cot.

His cheeks flame hot, but he props himself up on one elbow all the same, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. It isn’t as if Hawkeye can blame BJ for seeking a little release, but he could at least be courteous and _ shut up, _the way the rest of them do.

Still, Hawkeye is all prepared to roll over and go back to sleep, and leave BJ to whatever blonde-haired fantasy he’s cooked up, when BJ moans again, louder, and Hawkeye sits straight up.

Because they live in a small tent together, and Hawkeye knows: that’s not a sound of ecstasy but one of pain. 

“Beej?” he whispers. “_Beej _.”

“_What_?” It’s hissed between gritted teeth.

“Are you okay?” It’s a stupid question, sure, and Hawkeye is already tossing back the blankets and fumbling for his robe without waiting for an answer. 

At first, the only response is silence.

“Okay, moan once if you’re still alive.” Hawkeye tugs on his boots and robe, before groping his way through the darkness to BJ’s cot. When he gets there, he hears the sound of another stifled moan. “Well that’s a start.”

He sits down, placing a reassuring hand on what he thinks is BJ’s shoulder, finding it blazing hot and soaked through with sweat. Any hope that it’s not serious evaporates into the chilly night air. “What’s wrong, Beej?”

BJ curls away from him, arms clutched around his middle. “Oh god,” he says faintly.

“Cramps?”

“Y-Yes. Oh God, Hawk, it hurts.”

“Here,” Hawkeye reaches out and grabs BJ’s hand. “Hold onto this.”

BJ shakes his head for a second. “Don’t- don’t wanna hurt you, Hawk. Need your hands.”

“You need it more,” Hawkeye tells him. “C’mon.”

BJ gives in, grabbing onto Hawkeye’s hand like a lifeline, holding on so tightly that Hawk feels his bones grind together, making him yelp. “I’m sorry, Hawk.”

“Shh, hey, don’t be. Nothing wrong with a little _ interruptus _ in my dream _ coitus_.” He grins when BJ laughs shakily. “Do you think you can walk?”

“No chance.”

Hawkeye’s mind skips through the possible diagnoses, a mental filing cabinet of doom looming over the two of them in this little army cot. 

It could be something as simple as food poisoning or a hernia.

Or it could be a hell of a lot worse. Dysentery, maybe, or appendicitis.

_ Oh please, _ Hawkeye thinks, appealing any deity who might be in the neighborhood. _ Don’t make me cut him open. I can’t. _

“Hawk?”

“What?”

“Can you stop muttering to yourself?”

“Sorry.” He squeezes BJ’s hand. “Let’s go, I’m taking you over to the hospital.”

“No.”

“Beej, you may not have noticed this, but I can’t see in the dark. I didn’t eat enough carrots as a kid. Besides, we don’t want to disturb Sleeping Beauty.”

“‘M not moving,” BJ says, shaking his head. “Lying here until it stops hurting.”

“And when’s that gonna be?”

“When I die, Hawk.”

“No, no, c’mon, up.” He helps BJ to his feet, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders. “I’m with you, okay Beej? You can do it.”

BJ staggers a little once he’s standing, leaning heavily into Hawk’s side, a whimper slipping out, and Hawkeye’s robe is clenched in his fist as he helps him across the compound to the hospital. 

He turns on the light in pre-op, getting a good look at just how pale BJ is from the pain as he helps him onto the table. “C’mon, Beej, up we get. How long have you been menstruating?”

“That’s not funny, Hawk.”

“Okay, easy does it, you’re doing great, okay?”

Once BJ’s on the table, he curls into a ball, and Hawkeye carefully brushes back the damp hair plastered to BJ’s forehead. 

“Okay so you’re not menstruating. What was the last thing you ate?”

“I don’t- I don’t _ remember _, please make it stop, Hawk, please-”

His anguish bleeds through, and Hawkeye has to close his eyes for a second and collect himself. “Beej, I’m trying to help, but you have to focus, okay? Just for a few minutes.”

BJ’s eyes, hazy with pain, are fixed on Hawkeye’s face, his brow furrowed. “Dinner, same as you.”

“Yeah? Well it can’t be that, I’m not sick. What else?”

“The pie.”

“The pie?”

He groans, wrapping his arms around his belly. “The _ pie _, the- oh God - the one you hated. Peggy’s pie.”

“Okay that does it,” Hawkeye says, still stroking BJ’s hair. “I’m gonna write your wife a strongly worded letter about trying to poison her husband.”

“Not- not the pie. Frank had some too.”

“You gave Frank _ pie _?” Hawkeye asks, his fear replaced by a familiar outrage. “Why-”

BJ flaps a hand at him feebly. “Stop.”

“Fine. But if y'know if you’d poisoned _ him _with that pie, I’d have to give you a medal or something.”

“Visit me in Leavenworth instead,” BJ says, and smiles. It’s the first smile, sickly as it is, that Hawk has seen all night. 

“You know I would,” Hawk tells him.

“Hawk?” BJ asks after a second, sounding much younger than twenty-eight. “Am I dying?”

“No, you're not,” Hawkeye tells him, trying to quell the sudden sharp ache of fear in his throat. “You're not dying on my watch, okay Beej?”

BJ’s face relaxes for a second. “Okay.”

“Okay. Good. What other symptoms have you been having? Nausea? Vomiting?”

“You could say that.”

“_B__eej.” _

“S’okay. Comes and goes. Haven't puked in at least a week.”

“Could it be a bug, a flu?”

“Can't. You'd have it too.”

“And then we'd really be up a creek,” Hawkeye says, his mind working furiously. “But I’m fit as a fiddle. Or fid as a fittle if you prefer.”

BJ gives him a look, thoroughly unimpressed, and then his eyes go wide. “Oh.”

“Here, here,” Hawkeye offers him his hand again, lets him squeeze it. “Beej, let me probe your abdomen real quick.”

BJ gives him a withering look. “I’d rather die.”

“Look, Beej, I just want to see if your appendix is about to burst! And if that happens, you _ will _die! God, why is it that doctors make the worst patients?”

“And you call yelling at a dying man good bedside manner?” BJ’s eyes slide closed again. 

“I told you, you're not dying,” Hawkeye tells him. “You're not leaving me here alone.”

He says it so quietly that he hopes BJ doesn't hear him. 

“I don’t want you to hurt me.”

“Beej… I’m not gonna hurt you,” Hawkeye promises. “I’ll be gentle, okay? I just want to make sure your appendix isn't hot.”

BJ’s arms slowly uncurl from around his stomach. “And you’ll respect me in the morning?” he quips, breathless from the pain.

“That's my line,” Hawkeye says, lifting up BJ’s shirt, and gently probing the right side of his belly while BJ’s distracted.

When BJ doesn't immediately scream or double up in pain, Hawkeye lets his hand drop, sagging in relief. 

“Not appendicitis,” BJ says quietly. 

“No. You're a lucky man, BJ Hunnicutt.”

“Don’t feel lucky.”

“Well there’s gotta be an answer. You’re seriously ruining my reputation as the fastest diagnostician in the West, Beej. I may need to challenge you to a duel. Bedpans at twenty paces."

BJ snorts, but doesn't say anything.

"Any other symptoms?"

“No.” But BJ’s eyes dance away. 

“Beej, it's considered ill-mannered to lie to your doctor.”

BJ shakes his head. 

“Beej, c’mon, how can I help if-”

“Hurts.”

“I know.”

“No, it - oh _ god - _when I…” It may be a fever that has BJ’s cheeks flushed, but Hawkeye swears he turns a deeper shade of red. “When I go to the latrine.”

Hawkeye blinks. “Oh. For how long?”

BJ sighs, a shuddery exhale as he tries to shrug. “A few days.”

“_Days _?” Hawkeye repeats, stunned. “Jesus Christ, Beej! Why didn't you say something?”

“I was handling it.”

“Yeah right, if you call being bent in half in the middle of the night moaning like a two-bit rent boy _ handling it.” _

“How d’you know what a two-bit-”

“As your doctor, I’d suggest you don't finish that sentence.” 

“Fine.”

Hawkeye sighs. “Are you ever going to stop trying to be the hero?”

BJ snorts. “Rich from you.”

“You should've said something." 

“Only got bad today- tonight. Honest.”

“You know we don't expect you to be superman, right? You're allowed to hurt. And you're allowed to let it show. God knows I do."

BJ tries to smile. "When did you get so smart?"

"I didn't," Hawk tells him. "I just happen to be an expert on pain." 

“And in your expert opinion... what's wrong with me, Hawk?" 

“Does your family have a history of kidney stones?”

“No- I- I don't think so. I can't _ think.” _

“Well, if they do, then _you're_ in the family way. Congratulations are in order, Dr. Hunnicutt, you're expecting a bouncing baby kidney stone.”

BJ doesn't laugh. 

“I don’t care,” he says, grabbing at Hawkeye’s hand, squeezing it tight. “I don’t care, Hawk, just please make it go away, make it _ stop- _”

His eyes are wide and watering, and he doesn’t look any older than sixteen, frightened and hurting and far from home, and Hawk almost cries too.

“I'm gonna give you something for the pain, alright?”

“Make it stop _ now_,” BJ urges him. “Hawk, I can’t do this-”

“Shh.” Hawkeye smooths a hand over BJ’s hair. “It’s okay, Beej. Just relax, and let me take care of you, okay?”

“Hawk,” BJ says weakly. “Please.”

Moved by impulse, Hawkeye leans down and kisses the top of BJ’s head. “There. And next time, before you decide to be John Wayne, can’t you just admit you're hurting?”

BJ smiles at last. “Deal.”

“Good. I'm gonna get you some painkillers and some water. We’re gonna try and flush this sucker out.”

BJ nods, leaning back against the table. “Okay.”

“I’ll be right back, I promise. Don’t go anywhere.”

“Fat chance.”

Hawkeye pulls away from BJ, glancing back before heading to the lab.

His head is spinning, black spots popping in front of his eyes, and he has to take a few deep breaths.

_ It’s okay, _ he thinks, still feeling dizzy. _ He’ll be okay. _

His hands shake over the painkillers, and when he gets back to BJ, he almost slops water all over him. 

“Here, this should help.”

“Thanks, Hawk,” BJ mumbles, his eyes closed. 

“Sleep tight,” Hawkeye says, squeezing his hand. “John Wayne.”

With BJ's hand still clutched in his, he settles in for a long night.


End file.
